DDLC: Hot Blood Sharp Knife
by ThisAccountKillsFascists
Summary: A short little "poetic" piece about knaifu 4 laifu and her feels during that one important scene. You know, *that* one. Wasn't longer because lack of good ideas for more but I hope you like it anyway.


**Doki Doki Literature Club!: Hot Blood; Sharp Knife**

Breathe. Breathe.

The endless dripping brought me back.

Rise, fall, like the sun at dawn...

How could it come to this?

A hand in the darkness and it holds a knife. But the red comes forth, a crimson tide, staining cloth and catching the light; a sharp knife indeed but this blood aches so...

Breathe, just breathe.

Take a step, turn it around, just like before, back to before...

My eyes can see the blade in my hand. My hand? Is it still my hand? But my eyes watch cold and uncaring. Fingers may move, just breathe... Time has stood still for us, hasn't it? I can see you there, but it's like you don't see me anymore. What are you looking at? Are you looking for her?

Why don't you look at me?

This hot blood only boils for you. This knife only slices that which doesn't deserve to be pristine any longer. My eyes are fading, but they still see you there. How long will you wait? How long must you suffer?

How did it come to this? It's like an out of body experience... I sit here and I wait and I watch and I breathe, slowly, rising, falling. Will I stop breathing?

Will I die?

For me these are not questions in my mind any longer; the answers we seek are always there to find us. But the questions I have now do not suffice. Why?

Why?

Why me?

All I wanted was to love. It's true that I'm overzealous. To ę̪ͤ̄͑̋̆ͥ͋r͙͔͉̟͔̫̝͒̒͌r̯̘̲̼̞ͅo̶̰͛́͋͒͛̓̑r̴̠̱̫̥̣ͅ is human. Am I still human, now? If one takes a life, are they still human?

What if it's M͍̅͒͊͒ͧ̕y̛̞̅̂ ̮̆O͇ͦw̷͉̣͍̱̩̻̲͐ͣ͗̐̆n̠̎̄̾̂̋ ̴̲̭̭͛͛L҉ĭ̳͎͕f̵̝͋̍̑ͩe͖̳͈͇̭̘̲̍̿̈̍͐͑ͬ?

How wi̧͈̳̺̻̾l̏̈͌ͬ͏̪̰l̦ͪ́̍̾ͨ̒ ͚͉̃̈̋̅ͨ̓ͨ͟I͍̊ͯͣ͆ͦ͘ ͓̖̪ͯ̽k͙̩̻̤̟̲̜ͤno̘͎̔̎ͯ̅ͥ̕ẉ͇͇̻͔ͮ̇̉͗ͥͫ̍͢ͅͅ

Will you stay here with me until the end? Breathe... Slowly, it pains me more and more. This hole in my heart of my own volition, this hole in my heart where it doesn't belong. You once filled it now but I had to cut you out. You understand, don't you?

Do you u̖͙̗͔͕̯ͧͥ͗͗ͅn̳̳͈͚̘ͣ̂ͤ̑̿̓͌̕ͅḏ͓̭͟e̠ͩ̆̽̋ȑ̸̥͈͚͍͊ͤ͐s͕͍̱̈ͫͩ͂̈ṱ͉̳́̽ͣa͙ͧͩͦ̄͜n̉̈́̈ͬ̉̓̄͘d͕̙̘̬̽̀̿́̀̆̕?͙͎̰̝ͬͮͩ͌̒ͥ̈  
͉͎̠̅̇͑ͫ͛ͦ  
Do you still love me?

It must be silly to you to see me now. All that praise and all those words. All the heart ache and the distractions. I wish now that I could show you the knife; I wish now that you could see it my way. I want to show you who I am, what I've done to myself.

I had to do it.

I had no choice.

This is h̦̳̉͒ͩ̒͊̉ͨ͝e̝͎̞̳͕̻̪ͥͥ̆̈̅́ͪṟ̱͍ͭ͆̄ͬ̔̒͆ͅ ̴͔̫̫ͧ͆͛f̷̬͉̲͍̫̠͊̄a̡̱̘̗̩̘͓̳̓̒̄͛ͦ̏u͖͚͟lͪͩ̉͋ͭ͊͊҉t̮̯ isn't it? But she didn't do this to me. I did this to myself. What does it all mean?

Will you stay with me until the end? The endless red pools on the floor. Crimson like wine, crushed from grapes like dreams; draped is the mantle I wear on my shoulders. This burden in my soul sees no endless regret, but now that's all I feel... I wish I could feel you warm me again. I wish I could feel my blood race like lava through my veins just one more time. All because of you.

I͆̎̄͒ ͎̰d̵̹͉̬͇̜̊̈́ĭ̙̯d̯͖̰͈̠̦ͅntͯ ̣̮̫ḏ̺̗̳́ȩ̩̼̪͙s͕̯͇̜̺̠͊̋ͪ̑͠ͅe̩̣̲̮̘͒ͨ̋͛̇ͅr̞̀v̸͖̯͔̞̯̙e̗̩̥̱̙͓͌ͨ͝ ̚t̘̤̹͈̠̘̾̂͌̂͐͠hi̮̖̯͓ͮ̄͠s͙̯̻̞̩̈́ͯ̓ͩ̊͝.̷͎̘̟̙̺̫͕ͩ̂  
̘̣̗͍͓̈́͗ͯ̓̕ͅ  
͖̫͙̙͓͕̖̈́̓̅ͬ̎͆͘Y̠ͤͩ̒ͫoͣͪ̀͒̀̌u̺͡ ̟̹ͤd̸̻̭̪͕̬͖͊͂̿on̨̤̞͕̥̹̭͂'̢̦̠͔͔̺͋t̺̖̺̺̻ ͔̤̱̝̯͌̏ͅde̖͖͈͝ͅs̖̺̘̫̼̤͒͊͒͐͆ͤͩe̵̹̼̫͇̓̄͑͊ͮr͇̠̬ͮͥͯv̰̹̠̱͒̎ͯ̈́̊e͇̬̜̘̫̯͑̓͗̅̃̉ͦ͜ ̧̳̗̼̭̭ͨ͑͒ͥͩ̚m̜̱͒̌̌̔̐͡ͅe̴͇ͭ̎͆̾̏ͅ.̼̯̻̗

In the end we are only headed one direction. At the end we can only look back. I realize my mistake was trusting you, I realize I shouldn't have ever trusted to begin with. Not even trusting myself could have saved me. I wish it was different. I'd take it back if I could. Or would I? But when we're at the end, and we realize it can never change... Is that not the existence of fate? Was it not all fated to happen the exact same way it did?

n̵͍͚̣̻̰͎͊ͫͪ͗̓̔ȭ̜͕̝̫̫̺̞̇̃͞ ̥̣̓̾͂̾ͫr̨͓̙̞̰̫̤͎ͨͪĕ͖̯͂̀s̛̱̪͇ͮ̐̈e̶̳̬ͦ̿́ͫ̂ͥt͎͈͔̠̱̱́ͥ̽̽̀ͅ ͕͉̞̥̼͛̎̅͆n̿ͬ͛͌ͣ͗͑ò̖̰̯̪̦͍̓̌͗̇͆ͅ ͉̤̝̞̘r͖͍̬͔̘e̓̇liͮͯ̏ͬ͐͋͜ḙ͘f̝̰̙̣̻̈́ͤ͛̌͊̑

The dripping becomes the only way I can tell that time is passing. But is time real? For me, for us, here now... Does it even really matter?

I can't breathe anymore. I can only see the knife. It rests in my palm, my sweaty, aching palm... It's blade like moonlight cascading over pale flesh and the scarlet of my sin. Like all the ribbons in their hair, it flows as a cloth and lends its color to a dull grey haze. If only you knew how I felt right now.

I͚̭ͭͬf͍͕̭ͫ ̤̹̦͉͐̆͋̃̀o̙̮͓̪̥̲̯̊n̙̞͓͔lͥ̓́ỵ͍̹̋ ̴͚͙ͤ͑̓͌I͍̳͉ͥ͆̒̀̔ͦ͟ ̼̼ͤͨ̍̂͂̓k̤͍͔̩͈͚̤̈́͂͊͋̐̀n͕̻ͬ̈e̼ͫ̉͢w҉̻̹̗̝ ͔̜͓͔̝̭̗̑̄̋ͤh͙̭͈̫̳̠͊́ͫ́͗ͤ̚͝ȏ̷̻̻̄w͌̆̂̈ͫ͛̿ ̌̓̊ͦͪͦ̓͏t͛̆̑͐̀̚o͋͏͉ ̙͕̫͔̜̏́̓̑ͤf̶̜̮̗̟̮̑ͧ̋ͧ̑ee̦̰͈ͥͬͩ̐ͣl̐͒ͭͧͫ̉̅.͓͓͔̮̻͆ͮͯ̀  
̳̤̻ͥͯͪ͐ͭͮ  
What's the point anyway?

There is only her. That is all that awaits you. The light at the end of the tunnel is more grey than ever. Go to it, weary traveller. Take me with you. Fear has its place, just like the noise in your heart.

p̧̻ͯ̿̍̀̆ͥͫl̵̗̜̈ͯ̇ͨ̔ͯe̖̻ͦ̉́̚͢a͏̖͍s̲̣͇̳e̮̞̬̗̹͜ͅ ̵̻͔͉̟̦̃ͮ̓́ͪ̂d̴̥ͨ͛o̡͍ň̬̪͍̫̖̤̥̎̀t̬̗̻̝͓̬̻ ̥̫̼̜ͣ̍̈́͐ͮͪͥ͞ḽͭͥ̋͋̈̓ͤį̣̥̼̲̬͙̟̈́s͖̟̣̜̱͚̩ͤ̈́̋ͧͬͣ͘t̳̬̚e͕̰̬̙̭̟̪̒̿̔ͧ̕ṋ̹̯̱̯͓ͦ̓̔

please don't listen  
don't listen  
don't listen

She lies by omission.

I lie underground.

Safe and sound.

G̤̪̹̤͉͔ͭ́͌ͬ͜o͒͠ö͇̤̭̭̠̫̗̿̌̂ḑ̠͙̤̳̗̅b̯̲͌̈́̈́̅̀y̴͉̹̮̝̮̞͌ͅẹ͌̀̽ͤ͟ͅͅ,̟͙́̓̍̓̂ ̹̺̟̝̙͕̗̂̋̽m͓̲̭̻̯̬͓̑͑̇̇͌͊y̟͆̈̍ͣ͗ ̅̓̀l̷̠͓̥̱͕̣̓o̪̟͕̻̞͇̞͜v̹̩̇̌̉̔͋e̵͓̘͉̼͕̔̂͗̆̑ͣ.͍̼͋̌͌̂ͦ͐  
̫ͧ̔


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